Life After Marriage Book 3

Reunited Part 1

***Finally a real update. Love y'all from the bottom of my heart

Cecile in m/m****

AUGUST P.O.V. –

“You look like an eskimo.” Amber fixed the collar on my winter jacket.

I looked like how Auggie looked when Amb bundled him up. You know how little kids are so stuffed in their winter coats, their arms don’t come down.

“Put your arms down.” She laughed.

I straightened my jacket and put my arms down. I put on my goggles.

“Look at this.” Amb blew her breath and we watched the white air blow in front of us.

“Is that really fascinating to you?” I shook my head at how childish she was being.

“It is.” She pushed my head.

“Don’t touch me unless you want to be buried in this snow.”

“Whatever. Put on your helmet and goggles.” She handed them to me.

I took them from her and put the goggles on.

Amb tried to put on the helmet. But it wasn’t fitting.

I laughed at how silly she looked trying to put it on.  “Amb now you know that’s not fitting on yo big ass head.”

“It’ll fit. I just got wiggle it.” She tried to wiggle the helmet onto her  head, but it still wasn’t fitting her nugget ass head.

“Let me try.” I put my helmet between my knees and tried to help her.

“Oww August.” She swatted my hands away.

“ Just forget it. I don’t understand why it’s not fitting.” She took it off and ran her fingers through her hair. “It says one size fits all.”

“There’s All and then there’s you.” I slipped my helmet on easily.

“Ha-ha-ha. Not funny. I’m going to go exchange this.” She rolled her eyes then went back into the ski shop.

I sat on the wooden bench and tried to put on my ski boots.

“That is incorrect monsiuer.” I heard a woman’s voice with a strong French accent say.

I looked up to discover a woman who looked quite familiar but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen her. Whoever she was, even with all the winter gear, her chocolate skin glowed and maintained its beauty. She looked like she stepped straight out of a magazine. She looked more like an ad for skiing with her perfectly beat face, as opposed to actually being able to ski.

“Let me help you monsieur.” She got on her knees in between my legs almost like she was about to…you know what... but instead she aggressively lifted my pants leg up.

“Chill.” I held my arm out to stop her.

She looked up at me, not taking her hands off my pants leg.

“The first step is making sure your socks are pulled all the way up monsieur.” She pulled my ski sock all the way up.

 “I got it. Thank you.” I wanted her to move before Amb came and thought something inappropriate was going on. She after all, was all up in my private space, if you get my drift. And every time she pulled on my pants leg, her head touched my pants there.

“From the looks of it you don’t monsieur. On top of that I’m am your ski in-struct-teur (that’s how she pronounced.) Cecile.” She lifted my other pants leg up and pulled my ski socks all the way up. She patted both my thighs,  then stood up with her hands on her hips.

“Now open up your boot monsieur. Make sure thee clips are off.”

I did as she said.

“Then give a little push. And tap on the back of the heel. To make your foot and ankle sit right on the back of the cup.” She looked as I tried to follow her instructions. She was so close that every time I bent my head down, it touched her breast.

“Umm Cecile, you in my light.”

“Désolé monsieur.” She took a step back.

I do remember Amb saying that meant sorry in French.

“Now do the boot up.”

“Clip it?” I asked her confused about what do the boot up meant.

“Oui monsieur. Oui.” She said annoyed.

I tried to do it but couldn’t. She got back on her knees and clipped my boot super tight.

“That’s too tight.”

“Cesser d'être une chatte.”  Translation – Stop being a pussy.

She said and did the other one.

“What does that mean?”

“Just chit-chat.”

“Was that French?”

“No Russian. Yes Francais. Where are you from monsieur?”

“Well I live in Atlanta but I’m from New Orleans.”

“Ahh American ey?”

“Yeah.”

“I love American (Uh-Mer-E-CAN) men. Very, very good in bed.” She gave me a look of seduction.

“Well this American man is married.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t get down like that.” I tried to make that very clear to her.

“That’s what they all say. Then they end up saying my name in French. Cecile. Cecile.” She laughed.

I gave her the straight face.

“It’s a joke monsieur. A little joke. Laugh.” She smiled.

“Ah you’re too uptight monsieur. What’s your name?”

“August.” I said making sure my shoes were on straight.

 “Aout? Like du mois. I met an American’ named Aout once. In a café’ off of St. Bart in Paris (Per-E).”

Then I realized who she was. The woman I met in the café that time.

“I thought I knew you. You the woman from the café. It’s me.”

“Aout! We meet again. Still sexy I see. No offense to your wife. Very lucky she is.”

“I got a helmet that fit. Nan!” Amber came out the store and toward us.

She looked at me and Cecile.

“Baby this Cecile our ski instructor.”

“Hi.” Amb smiled and shook her hand.

I noticed Cecile gave her a fake smile.

“Well once you strap up, we can ski.” She told Amb.

Amb sat down to put on her shoes. She was obviously doing it wrong but Cecile didn’t help her. So I did.

“Are we ready?” Cecile asked after I helped Amb.

“Yeah.” Amb said excited.

I decided against telling Amb I knew her, but I could feel something wasn’t going to be right about this.